Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy

by Hughes, Charlotte

  The man nodded.

  “And another thing; I’m going to be watching you. I better not catch you behind the wheel of your truck while you’re all tanked up.” Gator released him with such force, he sent the man sprawling to the ground. “I suggest you find yourself a job and get off the booze, old man, ‘cause I’m not going to stop riding you till you do.” Gator didn’t wait for him to respond. He stalked over to his truck, got in, and drove away.

  #

  On Saturday morning Michelle awoke to the sound of steady knocking. Someone was at her door. She groaned and climbed out of bed, then, still half asleep, staggered toward the living room. She threw open the door and found herself face to face with Gator Landry. For a moment she was stunned into speechlessness.

  “Damn, Mic, don’t you even bother to find out who’s on the other side of your door before you just open it?” Gator asked, stepping over the threshold. He kicked the door closed behind him. “Have you any idea how many women are raped and robbed and Lord only knows what else from doing just what you did?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “How can you expect law enforcement to protect you when you open your door to anyone?”

  She blinked. “Gator, what are you doing here? I know you didn’t drive all this way to lecture me on home safety. Did you bring my car?”

  “Your car’s still sitting in line at the body shop. I told you they don’t hurry things along in Temptation. Mind if I sit down?” He took a seat on the couch without waiting for permission. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her in her pink shorty pajamas that brought out the flush in her cheeks. Her hair was tousled about her face beguilingly, her eyes dreamy and sleep-filled. Her long legs held his attention.

  “I tried to call you at least a half dozen times over the past week, Mic, but you weren’t home.” It had been more than a half dozen, but he wasn’t about to fess up and lose bargaining power. He’d practiced his speech on the drive up, but now he felt unsure.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Oh? You been pulling double shifts at the hospital?”

  “No.”

  So she was going to play hardball, he thought. Make him work for his information. “Does this mean you’re not going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

  Michelle planted her hands on her hips. Oh, the nerve of the man! Here he was questioning her, after he’d walked out on her. “Get this straight, Gator Landry,” she said. “I don’t sit home and wait for any man.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her show of temper. Damn, but she was cute. And sexy. And everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. “Not even for me, Mic?”

  “Not even for you,” she said firmly.

  He rose slowly from the sofa and closed the distance between them. He stopped only inches from her, leveling his gaze at her green eyes. “I’ve been sitting home nights over you, love.”

  Michelle almost shivered at his husky tone. His voice caressed her; the heat in his eyes warmed her belly. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? What happened? Did the Night Life Lounge burn to the ground after I left?”

  He chuckled and reached for her, but she took a step back. “I owe you an apology,” he said.

  “Damn right you do.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She was taken off guard by the earnest look in his eyes. “You should be.”

  “I was scared, Mic. Terrified, in fact.” He held out his hands as if surrendering. “I had to back away and clear my mind.”

  She felt herself softening against her will. “What on earth could you be afraid of, Gator Landry?”

  “Of falling in love with you, darlin’,” he said simply. “But it’s too late now because it happened, and there’s not a blasted thing I can do about it. And now I realize I don’t want to do anything about it. I just want to keep on loving you.”

  Michelle’s knees suddenly felt about as sturdy as warm jelly. “What about all those grand plans you had of traveling all over the world?”

  Gator shot her an amused look. “You’re going to make me grovel, aren’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “Remember when I told you I never felt as though I belonged?” She nodded. “That’s before I realized I belonged with you. Where I go or what I do really doesn’t matter anymore as long as you’re beside me.”

  “Maybe now, but what about next week?”

  His look sobered. “I don’t make decisions lightly, Mic. I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t thought this over very carefully. Hell, that’s all I’ve been doing the past week.” When she continued to look doubtful, he went on. “You’re the only person who ever loved me for who I am. Besides my mother,” he added with a chuckle, “but that’s her job. And I know you love me, Mic.” He smiled tenderly. “Before you came along I felt I wasn’t worthy of love. I thought I was a nobody, and I was scared you’d find out just how much of a nobody I was if I let you get too close.”

  “Oh, Gator.” She felt her heart swell with love for the man, knowing how hard it was for him to tell her such things about himself.

  “I’ve never had a high opinion of myself. It’s not important why, but I never felt I measured up. That’s the real reason I didn’t want to be sheriff. I was flattered when they asked me, but I was afraid I would let them down. I was afraid I couldn’t be the man my daddy was. Now I realize I only have to be myself.” He shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. “I figure if you love me, I can’t be too awful bad.”

  Michelle was clearly touched by the confession. “Does that mean you’re going to keep the job?”

  “I start law enforcement training on Monday.”

  She shook her head, stunned at the announcement. “I’m very proud of you, Gator.”

  She probably had no idea what those simple words meant to him. “I want you beside me, Mic,” he said gently. “I’m here to offer you a job and a marriage proposal.”

  Michelle was clearly stunned by his words. “You are?”

  Gator still felt unsure of himself. “Perhaps you’d like to discuss the job first. It’s working with a youth group I’m putting together as soon as I can squeeze the money out of those tightwads in City Hall. Plus, the clinic could use a hand now and then.”

  She waved the statement aside. “I think I’d like to hear about the marriage proposal first, if you don’t mind.”

  He smiled, almost shyly. “I’d like for you to be my wife, Mic,” he said, and held his breath waiting for her answer. “I’ll understand if you need to think about it.” She continued to look at him in utter stupefaction, so he continued. “I don’t care where we live as long as you’ll agree to spend a weekend on the houseboat with me every once in a while. And maybe do a little fishing with me. In return, we’ll hire a contractor, and you can decide what kind of house you want him to build. I love you, Michelle. With all my heart,” he added solemnly. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket and opened it.

  All at once Michelle was in his arms, laughter bubbling from her throat. Gator grinned, slipped the ring on her finger, and then captured her laughter with his lips. “Does this mean yes?” he asked when he raised his head.

  “Yes!” she squealed.

  “And you’ll wait for me while I’m in training?” Before she could answer, he added, “I’ll be able to see you weekends, and it’s only for six weeks. It’ll give you time to decide if you’re interested in working with these kids or helping out at the clinic in Temptation.” He shrugged. “Or maybe you just want to lie around naked on my houseboat for a while and make babies. We have a lot of time to make up for, love.”

  She nodded, unable to take her eyes off his face. He looked radiant. “Sixteen years worth,” she said. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  He kissed her tenderly, fitting himself against the soft curves of her body. “I’m going to be a good husband, Mic. I swear.”

  “I know that, Gator. You’re already a good man, you know.”

  “Don’t ever stop telling me that, darlin’. And don’
t ever stop telling me how much you love me and need me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.” He kissed her again. And again, until their breaths were hot and raspy. Their groans of pleasure rose over their heads.

  Michelle broke the kiss. “Shouldn’t we tell your mother and my grandmother?”

  He pondered her question. “Maybe we should wait and tell them in person. They won’t be expecting it.”

  “It’ll be a shock, I’m sure.”

  He nodded. “We’ll break it to them gently.”

  Michelle anchored her hands around his neck. Gator grinned and swooped her up in his arms with very little trouble. “We’ve got time to tell them. But right now we’re going to concentrate on making up for lost time. Maybe if we work hard …”

  Michelle snuggled against him as he carried her into the bedroom.

  About the Author

  Charlotte Hughes published her first category romance in 1987, a Bantam Books’ Loveswept, titled Too Many Husbands, which immediately shot to #1 on the Waldenbooks Bestseller list. She went on to write almost thirty books before the line closed in 1998.

  Although Charlotte is widely known for her laugh-out-loud romantic comedies, she went on to pen three Maggie Award-winning thrillers for Avon Books in the late nineties, before resuming her first love, funny stories about people falling in love. She thrilled readers with her hilarious books, A New Attitude and Hot Shot, the latter of which won the Waldenbooks Greatest Sales Growth Achievement in 2003.

  Her books received so many accolades that she was invited to co-author the very popular Full House series with mega-star author Janet Evanovich.

  With that series behind her, Charlotte began her own, starring psychologist Kate Holly; What Looks Like Crazy, Nutcase, and High Anxiety, creating a cast of somewhat kooky but always loveable and funny ensemble characters.

  To keep current with Charlotte and her projects, please sign up for her Readers Group and get free excerpts as well as the latest news.

  You can also visit her website at http://readcharlottehughes.com and follow her on Twitter @charlottehughes.

  If you enjoyed Welcome to Temptation we think you will also enjoy See Bride Run! (click here) and Tall, Dark, and Bad (click here), both released by Charlotte in 2014-2015, as well as her backlist. Her next book, The Devil and Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, tentatively scheduled for mid-August, promises to be another fun read! The following is an excerpt from that book:

  The Devil and Miss Goodie Two-Shoes

  Chapter One (Excerpt)

  Kane Stoddard cut the engine on his battered Harley, shoved the kickstand in place with the heel of his boot, and read the address on the rustic frame building once more. As he climbed off his bike, he could still feel the vibrations from the powerful engine rumbling through his body. His right hand ached from having gripped the throttle for so many hours. His shoulder muscles were sore. He didn’t care. It felt good to use all the parts of his body again.

  Prison had taught him to appreciate the simple things.

  He sucked his breath in deeply and tasted the crisp Mississippi air. It was fresh and clean with no lingering scents of urine and disinfectant. Spring. How fitting to be given a new start in life when everything around him was coming alive as well.

  He smiled, then realized it was the first time he’d smiled in months. Not that he’d had a whole lot to smile about these past three years. But, out of the blue, everything had changed. The warden had called him into his office to apologize for the terrible mistake they’d made, they being the judicial system that Kane had long ago lost respect for—the same system that put bank robbers behind bars for forty-five years and gave child molesters four.

  “I’ve wonderful news for you, Mr. Stoddard,” the warden of Leavenworth Prison had said, as if addressing inmates respectfully took the sting out of all the other humiliations they were forced to endure. “A man fitting your description robbed a Memphis convenience store a couple of months ago. The clerk shot him in the chest. The man eventually died but not before he confessed to several crimes, including the one for which you were convicted.” The warden paused. “His story checked out, and his DNA was at the crime scene. He was able to give details.

  The warden paused and took a deep breath. “So … It appears you were wrongfully convicted.”

  Now, three days after his release from the Hot House—the name everyone gave to that notorious federal prison—Kane stood before Abercrombie Grocery. He thought of the bundle of letters in his duffel bag that had led him from Leavenworth to Hardeeville, Mississippi.

  Melanie Abercrombie had begun writing to him a year earlier when she’d received his name from her pastor. Kane suspected the preacher hoped his congregation would bring a few criminals to salvation. Well, Miss Abercrombie hadn’t saved his soul, but she’d certainly made the small Mississippi town and its occupants sound interesting. Through her letters, Kane knew the good Reverend Potts had a weakness for rhubarb pie, and his wife a fondness for gossip. He’d also read about the Babcock’s, who owned the local bakery and often left their loaf bread and rolls on the shelves too long instead of moving them to the “thrift” section and marking them half-price. This, Miss Abercrombie declared, was probably due to the fact that their teenage daughter, Desiree, refused to buy her clothes at the moderately priced Aaronson’s Department Store like everyone else, preferring the Neiman Marcus (Melanie had called it Needless Markup) in the new mall in the next town instead. It was no wonder folks in Hardeeville were being forced to pay top dollar for stale bread.

  Kane had read each and every letter, sometimes three or four times before tucking them into the shoe box beneath his cot. He’d never answered them, of course, not only because he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to the woman but because he didn’t want anyone to think the letters were important. The minute someone found out something mattered at Leavenworth they took it away.

  Nevertheless, he had found himself wondering about Melanie Abercrombie: what she looked like, the sound of her voice. She had to have a pretty voice, because she’d mentioned singing in the church choir. As for looks, she was probably as plain as a dust mop, he’d convinced himself. Otherwise, she wouldn’t spend all her free time writing to him.

  Kane pulled his duffel bag from the bike and approached the store, trying to decide if it looked as Melanie Abercrombie had described it. The building had to be at least a hundred years old, the wood faded and warped in places from the weather. A vintage soda-pop machine shared space with two long benches on the front porch, where a faded green awning offered relief from the elements. Double screen doors marked the entrance, both of which sagged and looked as though they’d come completely unhinged in the next strong wind. Beside one door a small sign listed the hours of operation. A sign on the other side of the doors listed the rules. No loitering, profanity, or alcoholic beverages allowed. Kane didn’t have to be psychic to know who’d put up the sign. Even in her letters, Miss Melanie Abercrombie had come across as a real Southern lady.

  He paused before the door, suddenly nervous at the thought of meeting the woman who’d written to him faithfully the past year. How would she react when she saw him for the first time? His release had come about so quickly, he hadn’t had a chance to notify her of his whim to visit.

  #

  Melanie Abercrombie was in a sour mood, brought on by hunger pangs, her younger sister’s desperate, incessant phone calls, and a feeling of being overwhelmed. She peered through clunky square-framed glass at the mess before her.

  Abercrombie Grocery was as disorganized and cluttered as a child’s playroom, proof that her father preferred visiting with his customers and listening to gospel music to sweeping and restocking shelves. Mel ran a finger across the lid of a jar of pickled beets where a layer of dust covered the price.

  She knew she was partially responsible for the mess. Her flower shop had been in an uproar for a solid month, what with three weddings and two high school proms. It was so bad her assistant, Eu
nice Jenkins, claimed she was getting varicose veins from standing on her feet so long, and prickly heat rash from sweating and handling pompoms. Mel simply hadn’t had time to come by her father’s store and clean the way she usually did. It was no wonder folks were driving into town to shop at the new Thrifty Sack.

  Nevertheless, Mel had had no idea how bad business had been until she looked through her father’s financial records. Only then did she realize they would have to take desperate measures. The store must be cleaned up once and for all. They’d have to pull up all that scarred linoleum and tear down the warped shelves. They’d have to patch the roof over the meat cooler and repair the faucet on the bathroom sink, and have someone look at the old heating and air conditioning unit that never quite kept the place warm enough in winter or cool enough in the summer.

  Mel sighed heavily. It was going to take so much time and money, neither of which she had very much of these days.

  That brought her to the next problem: Where the heck was the carpenter she’d hired to do the work? She groaned inwardly as she wondered about him. She’d hired the man sight unseen from a Craig’s List ad stating he was unemployed and would work cheap as a handyman. She’d later learned, through the grapevine at church, that the fellow was unemployed due to a tendency to drink and forget about work altogether.

  Mel was interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of a motorcycle pulling in front of the store. Less than a minute later, one of the screen doors was thrown open and a man stepped through.

  “Melanie Abercrombie?” he asked, trying to make himself heard above a modern rendition of “Jesus Loves Me” coming from a radio at the back of the store.

  At first all Mel could do was stare at him.